When the original idea of sourcing cement from SA collapsed we then decide to try and source the cement from Zimbabwe and drove up there planning to meet with suppliers that side of the border.Again we had the logistics worked out this time the road option would have worked as it would have been across Zim into Botswana, across the north of Namibia until we reached the Angolan border crossing at Oshikango in Namibia this time the distance would only be about 1,300 kilometres as opposed to the longer SA option we also had the chance of bringing granite back from Angola to be cut up and sold for kitchen counter work topsHalfway between the border and Bulawayo there is a quite a big cement factory and with hopes high we pulled in there only to be told that it was lunch time and that the plant was closed for a couple of hours and that it would be better if we drove on to the head office in Bulawayo.Reached Bulawayo later that afternoon and booked into a guest house and discovered they had a two tier pricing system the cheaper price is for local residents meaning anybody that lives in Southern Africa and the more expensive tariff for visitors from outside Africa.Bulawayo is a really nice looking city, clean with no sign of beggars or car guards (people that offer to guard your car while you go about your business) and the main roads are so wide, each direction is probably four lanes wide, I found out later they were made that way when Rhodesia was formed so that a team of six oxen pulling a wagon would be able to make a ‘U’ turn without getting into trouble.

Next morning we went to the Head office of the local cement company and were met with open arms they told us that with the government policies (Mugabe) causing havoc with the economy they could not afford to keep their plants operating on a full time basis and would welcome any opportunity to sell their cement.That’s as good as it got because then the little matter of payment came up, the cement was reasonable enough it was just Zimbabwe’s cockeye way of currency exchange.If we made a bank transfer for the cement it would have to go through the Zimbabwean Reserve Bank and as non residents we had to pay in foreign currency (US DOLLAR) this was a very low exchange rate as the government tried to hold onto the believe that the country was still functioning normally If we brought the US Dollars into the country without declaring them then the cement company would give us a better rate than the official rate. We then were told that if we took those same dollars onto the street we would be given the best rate on the black market.We also discovered that we would have to pay a lot of sugar money inside Zim just to get the cement out.All in all it became obvious that it was not going to work and another bright idea bit the dust.

The saddest part of this trip was every time we stopped outside the city our car would be surrounded by desperate woman and kids hoping for money or food, there were very little men to be seen as in that part of the country the tribe is against Mugabe and he has been persecuting them even before he turned on the white farmers.(Over 20 years ago he sent in the North Korean army and they killed more than 30,000 people) Most of the local men have gone to SA hoping to make enough money to either send back cash or food parcels to their families.

Now he is making a grab for all the private companies insisting that they hand over 51% to a local black partner (his inner clique no doubt) without any kind of compensation

"Now he is making a grab for all the private companies insisting that they hand over 51% to a local black partner (his inner clique no doubt) without any kind of compensation"[/quote]

I hear in today radio news that the first company (Rio Tinto diamond mining) has agreed to give 51% of their shares to Mugabes henchmen.They probably reckon 49% is better than nothing.Cant even be called extortion as the law only applies to white owned and foreign owned companies. (so far)

Time for another wee story I think, this time about entertainment or the lack of it at the job in Mali.

There was nothing to do after hours on that job except watch videos and drink in the bar, all drink free so that was a bonus, there were also about 20 Philippinos on the job and they used to organise Cock Fighting every Friday night but it wasn’t my cup of tea.

We were stuck in the middle of the bush with the nearest village about five miles away and that only had a bar and a lot of willing ladies if you were that way inclined. And anyway working seven days a week and between 100 and 120 hours every week it didn’t leave much time to socialise.

But never fear when there is a product and a lot of potential customers that can’t get together someone will find a way to make some money, so the local Madam hired a truck and brought her ladies to the camp. The first I knew if it was about 10 that night after finishing my shift and coming back to camp was to see all these woman wandering around with the men and disappearing behind doors.This was not a problem to me but for some of the South Africans who belonged to a right wing group called the AWB it was.

This group had vowed to fight to the last bullet to keep SA white and they were not happy about what was going on.They were even more unhappy when they spotted one of their own chatting up one of the woman and disappearing in the direction of his room. A lot of the men stayed in a large temporary wooden structure that was covered in tent canvas, when you walked in the front door there was a long passage up the center and on either side was air-conditioned rooms that could sleep two people, this renegade right winger’s room was up at the top on the right hand side.

His mates? decided the best thing to do was to get proof that he was sleeping with a black woman and coming from a small town they knew he would be ostracised when he went back to SA, so what they did was stand at the door listening for signs of activity and then burst in taking as many photos as they could. The intention was to show the photos to his wife and everybody in the organisation when they went home. Luckily for him my boss hearing this asked to see the photos and when he had the camera deleted all the evidence.

On the same night there was a Glasgow builder called Jimmy (real name) who had picked up two of the woman and was seen later coming down the passage with his arms around both of them shouting “where’s the camera? somebody take my photo, I want the camera” all three of them were naked.

The same Jimmy had picked up a bonus that was paid to him in cash and when going back to Joburg on leave had taken a taxi to a famous brothel called the ‘Ranch’ walking in he placed his bonus on the receptionists desk with the instruction “throw me out when its finished”

One day in the distant past and I was on duty in my home polis office when a guy came in and handed me a Samurai sword he had found while walking his dog in some woods. Strange, the things folk handed in! Later that day I had to take it to the Found Property Store in the main town polis station. While I was there, the sword became a focus for the station eejits to play around with, acting the Bruce Lee! I was distracted to the public desk where a little old lady was making a complaint about something or other, when one of the afore-mentioned eejits, who had dressed himself up as a Ninja warrior, all in black, with a scarf round his face and head, rushed through the office waving the sword and screaming like a Japanese madman, doing a weird dance and generally acting like the eejit Sergeant he was. The wee womans mouth dropped open and she screamed and ran oot the polis station screaming louder than the Sergeant eejit who stopped his war-dance and asked me 'what was the matter with her?' She never came back.

When the original idea of sourcing cement from SA collapsed we then decide to try and source the cement from Zimbabwe and drove up there planning to meet with suppliers that side of the border.Again we had the logistics worked out this time the road option would have worked as it would have been across Zim into Botswana, across the north of Namibia until we reached the Angolan border crossing at Oshikango in Namibia this time the distance would only be about 1,300 kilometres as opposed to the longer SA option we also had the chance of bringing granite back from Angola to be cut up and sold for kitchen counter work topsHalfway between the border and Bulawayo there is a quite a big cement factory and with hopes high we pulled in there only to be told that it was lunch time and that the plant was closed for a couple of hours and that it would be better if we drove on to the head office in Bulawayo.Reached Bulawayo later that afternoon and booked into a guest house and discovered they had a two tier pricing system the cheaper price is for local residents meaning anybody that lives in Southern Africa and the more expensive tariff for visitors from outside Africa.Bulawayo is a really nice looking city, clean with no sign of beggars or car guards (people that offer to guard your car while you go about your business) and the main roads are so wide, each direction is probably four lanes wide, I found out later they were made that way when Rhodesia was formed so that a team of six oxen pulling a wagon would be able to make a ‘U’ turn without getting into trouble.

Next morning we went to the Head office of the local cement company and were met with open arms they told us that with the government policies (Mugabe) causing havoc with the economy they could not afford to keep their plants operating on a full time basis and would welcome any opportunity to sell their cement.That’s as good as it got because then the little matter of payment came up, the cement was reasonable enough it was just Zimbabwe’s cockeye way of currency exchange.If we made a bank transfer for the cement it would have to go through the Zimbabwean Reserve Bank and as non residents we had to pay in foreign currency (US DOLLAR) this was a very low exchange rate as the government tried to hold onto the believe that the country was still functioning normally If we brought the US Dollars into the country without declaring them then the cement company would give us a better rate than the official rate. We then were told that if we took those same dollars onto the street we would be given the best rate on the black market.We also discovered that we would have to pay a lot of sugar money inside Zim just to get the cement out.All in all it became obvious that it was not going to work and another bright idea bit the dust.

The saddest part of this trip was every time we stopped outside the city our car would be surrounded by desperate woman and kids hoping for money or food, there were very little men to be seen as in that part of the country the tribe is against Mugabe and he has been persecuting them even before he turned on the white farmers.(Over 20 years ago he sent in the North Korean army and they killed more than 30,000 people) Most of the local men have gone to SA hoping to make enough money to either send back cash or food parcels to their families.

Now he is making a grab for all the private companies insisting that they hand over 51% to a local black partner (his inner clique no doubt) without any kind of compensation

If we are talking about the same man Alfie stayed in Linwood.WE got on well and put the world to rights over a pint many a time.

The very same. Dark and going grey curly hair. Sarcastic to all considered the ruling class. A Celtic supporter and all round interesting and funny bloke.

Standing out side the mill on a wet morning after the night shift; Peter Mclean says to me as a bus approaches " Do you want this bus" Alfie, without looking up from the Daily Mail: "Don't be silly. Where would he put it?"

Hi Alfie Kiddie was my dad he passed away may 1993 aged 51 and your right about the stories he was a man and a half. Nice to see people remember him.

He was a man who fought of his inner demons with a humour and camaraderie that made him memorable to those who knew him. I don't know if he married a second time as I was long gone from Scotland by the early 70s.

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